The Butcher Knife

Amanda Woodley unloads the boxes from the trunk of her van, shifting them into her new ‘home’. It was much less spacious than the one she and her sister owned back in Virginia.

She leaves the boxes packed and crashes in the room with whitewashed windows on a small bed as sleep lulls her in.

Rubbing her eyes with the back of her fingers, she feels something gluey and soggy drip down her right cheek. She wakes up with a jolt, with drops of blood dribbling down her face. This wasn’t where she fell asleep. Tendrils of terror curled into her stomach.

She knew this place. It was her old house- her and her sister’s.

She wanted to scream but wind clogged in her throat. A sinister looking woman stood before her eyes who looked exactly like herself, only more evil. Her lips were pale and a very grudge holding smile played on them.

She held a butcher knife, that Amanda cut meat with, when cooking steak for her sister, with blood dribbling down it’s handle.

A gust of chilling winter wind seeped through the window. She tilted her head towards the window as a faint whisper fanned her right ear, ‘hello sister?’, in a quick jolt, she looked before her, where her evil, dead like self stood moments ago and wasn’t there anymore.

She dreaded to turn to her right and when she did, her dead self lunged at her with the butcher knife.

She ducked her head, running towards the washroom, as the sinister Amanda made a shrill cry. She locked the washroom door behind her.

Taking in a few long breaths that barely managed to pound into her, she now stood before the full length mirror in the washroom.

She wasn’t looking at herself. She was looking at her sister Terry in the mirror. She waved a hand in front of the mirror to confirm if it was really her, and the reflection simultaneously did the same.

She had a deep scar on her temples with dark blood coagulated around it. Chunks of dulled white bone showed from within. The dead Amanda rose from the bathtub filled with blood, almost floating in the air as she drove the knife into Amanda, who reflected of Terry, her dead sister in the mirror.

Amanda Woodley unloads the boxes from the trunk of her van, shifting them into her new ‘home’. It was much less spacious than the one she and her sister owned back in Virginia; her sister Terry who she killed with a butcher’s knife aiming right into the head as blood spat onto her face like a spray of juice.

She leaves the boxes packed and crashes in the room with whitewashed windows on a small bed as sleep lulls her in.

She wakes up on the bed of her old house again, with blood dribbling down her face and her alternate sinister self standing before her with a butcher knife in her hand.